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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094716">A Martian Inheritance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MVKramer/pseuds/MVKramer'>MVKramer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But no canals, F/F, F/M, Female Character of Color, Inheritance, Male Character of Color, Mars, Mars is habitable in this story, Martians, Science Fiction &amp; Fantasy, Steampunk, Terrorism, Victorian, Victorian vision of Mars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:35:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MVKramer/pseuds/MVKramer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place on a habitable, Victorian-style Mars. Santosh "Joshua" Lewis inherits an oxygen farm on Mars. When he moves there, he is drawn into a conflict between the British and the Martians. Which side will he choose?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>February 1901</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Queen Victoria, empress over nations on two planets, was dead. Her death had surprised Joshua Lewis. Victoria had been Queen for as long as he could remember; it had seemed like she would live forever. He had not grieved when she died, but he did feel the solemnity of the occasion.</p><p> </p><p>The Queen had been dead for about a week when Joshua received news that did cause him grief. His best friend, Tom Crummels, was planning to travel to Mars to help build a canal. Joshua would miss Tom terribly, and he doubted that Tom would ever come back.</p><p> </p><p>Joshua had heard plenty of horror stories about Mars. He knew that it was practically a desert world, with thin air and hardly any water, and that despite being a desert, it was as cold as the Arctic. He had heard that the Martians were not friendly to Englishmen, and that fierce predators that ate humans roamed the planet. His uncle James, his father’s brother, lived on Mars, and he had a half-brother stationed with a garrison there. However, neither his uncle nor his half-brother had ever contacted him. If Mars was as cruel a planet as he thought, they were probably both dead.</p><p> </p><p>And Tom was planning to live there, despite all the dangers! Tom had always been more adventurous than Joshua, but journeying to Mars was practically suicide. Joshua’s heart grew heavy whenever he thought of Tom’s upcoming trip. But in the second week of February, everything changed.</p><p> </p><p>On a frosty Saturday afternoon, a letter came for Joshua at Cambridge. He took it from the letterbox without much enthusiasm. He did not recognize the return address, a law firm in London. He opened the letter, read the first sentence, and sucked in his breath. His uncle James was dead.</p><p> </p><p>For a while, Joshua sat without reading further. It was just as he thought; Mars had killed his uncle, and it would kill Tom too. His heart ached at the thought of the upcoming separation from his friend. He was more depressed about Tom than about his uncle’s death, and he felt slightly guilty. But how could he mourn his uncle when he didn’t know him? <em>God rest his soul</em>, he thought.</p><p> </p><p>He returned to the letter. As he read it, he felt his gray eyes widening, in astonishment and horror. His uncle James had left him twenty thousand pounds, as well as Redfield, his oxygen farm on Mars.</p><p> </p><p>Joshua sank into a chair, his mind in a whirl. How had Uncle James even known he existed? And why had he left Redfield to Joshua? Especially with a legitimate, white, completely English nephew, who already resided on Mars. <em>Unless he’s also dead.</em></p><p> </p><p>Dread coiled in the pit of Joshua’s stomach. He would refuse the estate; he would stay on Earth. But if he went to Mars, he would be able to stay with Tom. But Mars was such a dangerous planet. But if his uncle had only just died, he must have lived a long life there. Perhaps Mars wasn’t as dangerous as Joshua had thought.</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of the day, he sat in his chair or paced back and forth, trying to make a decision. By six o’clock, he still had not decided, and he was meeting Tom for drinks at the Eagle. Perhaps Tom would give him some advice.</p><p> </p><p>He went to the pub and found Tom already there. He and Tom ordered pints and sat down at a table. “I got a letter today,” Joshua said. “My uncle is dead.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry about that,” said Tom. “Do you know what he died of?”</p><p> </p><p>“The letter didn’t say,” said Joshua. He took a deep breath before he said, “He’s left me his oxygen farm on Mars.”</p><p> </p><p>A smile appeared on Tom’s face, and he rubbed his hands together. “You’ll be moving to Mars as well? Excellent!”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t decided whether to accept it,” Joshua said.</p><p> </p><p>Tom frowned. “But why not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” repeated Joshua in disbelief. “Because it would be suicide.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it wouldn’t be,” said Tom. “It’s hardly as bad as they say.”</p><p> </p><p>“But there’s no water, and the thin air…”</p><p> </p><p>“We harvest water from the air and the ice caps,” Tom said. “True, some people can’t bear the thin air; it’s like the air high in the mountains. But it’s breathable.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua was slightly reassured, but he continued, “I’ve heard it’s horribly cold there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not everywhere. The climate is temperate near the equator.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the animals,” Joshua said.</p><p> </p><p>“Just shoot them,” Tom said promptly. “Or if you can’t use a gun, you can hire a Martian guard to protect you and your property.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua was feeling more comfortable. “And I’ve heard the Martians are hostile.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not everywhere. Some nations there have signed treaties with the English. Including the Queen of Talaza.”</p><p> </p><p>“Talaza?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s where I’m going.” Tom rumpled his curly brown hair. “We’re building in the old capital, Larvazi. Is your uncle’s oxygen farm near Larvazi?”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua tried to remember what the letter said. “I don’t think so. The letter said it was near a place…Raga-something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ragasin?” Tom frowned</p><p> </p><p>“That’s it! Ragasin,” said Joshua. He noticed that Tom’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong with it?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a completely Martian town, almost no Englishmen there.” Tom shook his head. “The <em>nemambu</em> of Ragasin hates the English.”</p><p> </p><p>“The what?”</p><p> </p><p>“The <em>nemambu</em>. An elected official, of sorts; she governs Ragasin and the area around it.”</p><p> </p><p>“She?”</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Azgal. She’s ruled over Ragasin for ten years now; I’ve heard stories about her.”</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of stories?” Joshua asked apprehensively.</p><p> </p><p>“The only English she lets into Ragasin and the surrounding area are oxygen farmers. Nobody else from Earth is allowed. I’ve heard she supports terrorist groups.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua shivered. “Then I probably shouldn’t go there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Tom said. “Your uncle lived there with no trouble, it sounds like.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t know; he never contacted me,” Joshua said stiffly.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’ve talked to Englishmen who have come back from Mars, oxygen farmers and soldiers and miners. They did well on Mars; some of them got rich.”</p><p> </p><p>Rich? Joshua put his chin in his hand, deep in thought. If he stayed on Earth, he would remain a half-Indian student trying to overcome the disadvantages of his skin color and heritage. On Mars, there was a chance that he could prosper. But was prosperity worth venturing into a town hostile to the English? Tom seemed to think it was.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was the ale, perhaps Tom’s reassuring words. But Joshua looked squarely at Tom and said, “All right. I’ll accept it and go to Mars.”</p><p> </p><p>“Splendid!” Tom said, with a wide smile on his face. “We might as well travel together.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Nemambu" is a word in Talazan, a Martian language. It literally translates to "great lady."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Bomb</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was early morning in New Larvazi. Rizu Sharulunu Kamur walked down the dirt streets from her family’s small home to the Royal Martian Hotel.</p><p> </p><p>A gust of wind blew red dust into her mouth; she coughed and adjusted her mask. The northern part of Talaza might be warmer than the south, but the dust seemed to be just as bad, and the scenery was dismal. The houses, built of soil bricks, were squat, shapeless masses sitting side by side on each side of the street. There were almost no plants, except for a thorn tree or a prickly bush here and there. Despite the town being called “New Larvazi,” it bore no resemblance to the old Talazan capital. Or at least the <em>Zaldistal</em>, the Martian Quarter, didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>The <em>Zaldingi, </em>the British Quarter, was another story. The streets were paved with granite here, and the houses were larger and made of stone. The streets were lined with lime trees imported from Tishighal, and there were gardens in front of the larger houses, with grasses and flowers also imported from Tishighal. Perfectly drinkable water was being wasted on the invaders’ frivolous gardens. A hot ripple of anger passed through Rizu’s heart. <em>They will pay.</em></p><p> </p><p>She stood on the pavement across from the hotel, waiting for the electric ground cars to pass. At least the Tishighali couldn’t bring their primitive, petrol-powered cars to Stal. Rizu was sure she wouldn’t be able to breathe at all, if the thin air were polluted with petrol fumes.</p><p> </p><p>A blast of warm air emanated from the hotel as Rizu pulled the door open. She pulled off her mask and cloak, basking in the heat, staring around her at the luxurious surroundings. The floor was shining marble, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a gilded, winding staircase led to the upper floors. Rizu clenched her fists. The invaders from Tishighal were living in luxury while the planet and its natives were dying. <em>Not for much longer. They will pay</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re late!” a voice barked. Rizu looked to her right and saw Vikhali, her supervisor, striding towards her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Vikhali,” Rizu said, fiddling with her shoulder bag.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be sorry; just start cleaning,” Vikhali snapped.</p><p> </p><p>Rizu walked to the lifts on the other side of the lobby and pressed the button. The door opened, revealing Shunil, her friend.</p><p> </p><p>“Where were you?” Shunil asked, as Rizu stepped into the lift. “I was thinking you weren’t going to show up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I slept late,” said Rizu. “Having a hard day so far?”</p><p> </p><p>Shunil shrugged. “Could be better, could be worse. I had to clean up vomit in one room—the man staying there is a drunk—and I had to listen to a boy who wants to ‘meet the natives,’ as he put it.” Shunil scowled. “Another Tishighali coming to our planet to gawk. Khamri preserve us, but I hate tourists.”</p><p> </p><p>“So do I,” said Rizu, as she and Shunil stepped off the lift onto the fifth floor. “So do we all.”</p><p> </p><p>They cleaned the rooms on the fifth floor in silence. Luckily for them, the rooms weren’t particularly dirty. Rizu would have plenty of time to go to the eighth floor and clean Sir William Crofton’s room.</p><p> </p><p>When they were finished, Shunil asked, “Ready to go upstairs?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” said Rizu. She rummaged around in her bag. “Oh, choke it all; I must have dropped my money pouch in one of the rooms.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d better get it quick, before someone steals it.” Shunil pressed the lift button. “See you upstairs.” The lift doors opened, and she stepped inside. Rizu waited for a few minutes after the door closed, then rifled in her bag again. The money pouch was still there, and so was the bomb.</p><p> </p><p>She took a lift up to the eighth floor. Here was where Sir William Crofton, the new governor of Old Larvazi, was staying, and here she would place the bomb. Having taken note of Sir William’s routine, Rizu knew he would come back to his room in an hour. Quickly, she cleaned the room and made the beds. Then she took the bomb out of her bag and primed it to go off in an hour. She tucked it into a drawer, beneath a pile of clothes. Her task accomplished, Rizu joined Shunil on the sixth floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you find it?” Shunil asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Find what? Oh, right, my money pouch,” said Rizu. “Yes.” She scratched her head and checked the time on her communicator. Fifty-five minutes until the bomb would go off.</p><p> </p><p>In the next fifty minutes, she and Shunil finished cleaning the sixth and seventh floors. Then Rizu talked Shunil into leaving the hotel and getting a blackroot tea from the tea shop across the street. She felt a pang for any other Stali who might die in the explosion, but she could at least save her friend. She looked at her communicator as she and Shunil stepped onto the pavement outside: five minutes.</p><p> </p><p>A ground car pulled up to the curb, and out stepped an old man in a black great-coat and a top hat. Rizu sucked in her breath as she glimpsed his face. Yes, it was Sir William Crofton, the Butcher of Inugran, the man who, twenty years ago, had given the order to fire into the crowd of civilians protesting the building of the Great Eastern Canal. Rizu, only eighteen, had not been alive when the protest took place, but her parents had told her stories about it. She glared at the man’s back as he went into the hotel. He would get what he deserved, soon. She checked her communicator: four minutes.</p><p> </p><p>The tea shop was empty, and Rizu and Shunil sat down and ordered their drinks. Three minutes. They waited for a while in silence; Rizu was too excited to make small talk. Two minutes.</p><p> </p><p>“Is something wrong?” Shunil asked. “You seem troubled.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m not troubled,” Rizu said truthfully. One minute. She got up from the table and stepped out of the shop.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait—where are you going?” Shunil asked, but Rizu ignored her. She waited on the pavement, staring at the hotel. Her heart beat rapidly, and she moistened her dry lips. Twenty seconds…fifteen…ten…five… </p><p> </p><p><em>BOOM</em>. A fiery explosion at the top of the hotel sprayed debris into the air and rocked the ground. Shunil and the other people screamed. As crowds of people, both Stali and Tishighali, stood staring, or rushed towards the hotel, Rizu’s heart swelled with fierce satisfaction. Captain Akim would be pleased, as would the <em>nemambu </em>of Ragasin. Her first mission for The Hand of Varad, and she had completed it. More importantly, a blow had been struck against Tishighal. The people who died in Inugran had been avenged.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Tishighal" is the name for Earth in Talazan. "Stal" is the name for Mars.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Redfield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>November 1901</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Joshua stepped from the rocket into the corridor to the rocket port, he tripped and landed flat on his face. Or rather, he sank gracefully into a lying-down position. Around him, he saw other passengers in the same predicament. There were some cries of alarm, some grunts as people hit the floor, but mostly there was surprised laughter, as the passengers seemed to fall in slow motion.</p><p> </p><p>“Low gravity,” Tom said with a grin, holding a hand out to Joshua. “We’ll have to learn—” He paused to take a deep breath. “To walk all over again.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua grasped Tom’s hand and let him help him to his feet. His legs were still unsteady, and he felt dizzy; he bowed his head and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. It was only after a while that he could walk unsteadily from the corridor into the rocket port.</p><p> </p><p>The rocket port was a large building, with a high ceiling and a shining stone floor. It was bright, probably lit with electric lights. Signs, written in English and in strange characters, were posted on the walls. Martian porters rushed here and there, pushing trolleys loaded with people’s luggage. Joshua stood still, looking at them. He had never seen Martians.</p><p> </p><p>The porters were tall and thin and had reddish-brown skin. Their hair, dark or blond, was cropped short, and many had neatly trimmed beards. They wore shapeless tunics, tunics, and boots in dull shades of green. As a porter carrying a wicker suitcase passed close to him, Joshua noticed that the man had a green leaf tattooed on his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” Tom said breathlessly. Joshua started and looked at him. “We need—to get our—medical exam.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua and Tom followed the other passengers towards a room marked INFIRMARY, stepping lightly in the low gravity, panting in the thin atmosphere. They leaned on each other, helping each other move slowly across the shining floor. At one time, they slipped and fell gently to their knees, and at another time, Joshua knocked Tom onto the floor. But they stood up again and kept walking unsteadily, passed by more surefooted newcomers.</p><p> </p><p>The nurses were Martian women, shorter than the porters but still taller than Joshua and Tom. Their hair was cut as short as the men’s, and they also had tattoos on their faces. They asked about Joshua and Tom’s state of health, checked their eyes and ears, listened to their hearts with a stethoscope, and took their temperatures with a thermometer. Joshua was a little surprised by how similar everything was to medical exams on Earth. True, the thermometer had a little screen which flashed the temperature, and the stethoscope looked different from those he had seen. But it seemed that in medicine, Mars wasn’t much more advanced than Earth.</p><p> </p><p>Soon the exam was done, and Joshua and Tom were dismissed. They walked over to a counter to collect their luggage. “Lucky—we passed,” Tom said. “If we—were ill, they’d—pack us on a rocket—send us back—to Earth.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua nodded. He and Tom found a couple of porters to carry their luggage and stepped out of the rocket port. The area outside was bare red earth, with no plants, not a single patch of green. A chilly wind blew dust into Joshua’s eyes and throat; he coughed, his eyes stinging. To his left, he could see tall white towers standing proudly against a blue sky.</p><p> </p><p>“What—city is that?” he gasped, pointing to the towers.</p><p> </p><p>“Old—Larvazi. That’s—where I’m going,” Tom said cheerfully and breathlessly, waving a hand towards the city.</p><p> </p><p> “So soon?” Joshua asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. We’re—traveling--to the North Pole--from there."</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I wish—you luck,” said Joshua, shaking his hand. <em>And I wish you weren’t leaving me alone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“How—can I reach you?”</p><p> </p><p>Tom handed Joshua a slip of paper with an address printed on it. “Write to me at this address,” Tom said. He and several of the passengers stumbled away, often falling and having to pick themselves up, followed by an army of porters. Joshua saw strange, beetle-like machines standing in a line. Several of the machines were moving towards Old Larvazi, making a humming sound; Joshua supposed these must be the Martian equivalent of motor cars.</p><p> </p><p>Now that he was alone, Joshua stood still, not knowing what to do. The bright sun, looming large overhead, hurt his eyes, and he was still gasping in the thin atmosphere. Everything was so unfamiliar that he seemed to be trapped in a strange dream.</p><p> </p><p>Joshua turned to the porter standing near him. “I beg—your pardon,” he asked. “Has anyone—asked about—Joshua Lewis?”</p><p> </p><p>“Joshua Lewis?” said the man, in heavily accented English. “I don’t know, but I’ll inquire.” He went back into the rocket port. Joshua waited for a few minutes before the man appeared again. “There’s someone here waiting for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua started to walk to the rocket port but fell down. He was just getting to his feet when the porter, followed by a Martian woman, walked back over to him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re Joshua Lewis?” said the woman. She was taller than Joshua, perhaps six and a half feet. She had darker skin than the porters, graying brown hair cut short, and tattoos of flowers on her cheeks. She wore a tunic and a pair of trousers of the same cut as those of the porters and nurses, only in black.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s—my name,” Joshua said, before taking a deep breath of rarified air.</p><p> </p><p>The Martian woman offered him her hand. “My name is Tamu Ensilunu Unmat. I’m your <em>galbu</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua shook her hand, feeling confused. “My what?”</p><p> </p><p>“The steward of your estate, I suppose it would be.” Miss—or Mrs.?—Unmat shrugged. “The translation is a little off. I manage your estate and protect your property.”</p><p> </p><p>“Protect my property—” Joshua looked at the tall, dark figure for a moment. “Women are—stewards of estates—on Mars?”</p><p> </p><p>Unmat’s eyes narrowed. “Women can be anything on Mars.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Joshua said. “Didn’t mean—offend you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t.” There was an awkward silence. “So, you’re the new owner of Redfield?” The Martian woman finally said. “You’re not what I expected.”</p><p> </p><p>“What were—you expecting?”</p><p> </p><p>“A white man.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua’s face heated up; anger and embarrassment welled up in him. “My mother—was Indian.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see. I’m sorry if I offended you.” Unmat shook her head. “We’re not off to a good start, are we? Shall we agree to start all over?”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua gave her a half-smile. “Yes. My name—is Joshua Lewis, and—I’m very pleased—to make your acquaintance.” He shook Unmat’s hand again.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Tamu Ensilunu Unmat, and I’m pleased to make <em>your </em>acquaintance,” she said, giving a half-smile in turn.</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon my ignorance—but what—shall I call you?” Joshua said. “I don’t know how people—are addressed on Mars.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can just call me Tamu. We don’t use honorifics here, except to the nobility and elected officials.” Tamu rubbed her hands together. “Shall we go to Redfield, now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Follow me.” Tamu beckoned to the porter and they both strode off; Joshua, still unsteady on his feet, followed them. They came to a flat, triangular vehicle standing at a distance from the motor cars.</p><p> </p><p>“Are we driving down to Redfield?” Joshua asked, as the porter began putting the luggage in the back seat of the machine.</p><p> </p><p>Tamu snorted. “If we drove, we wouldn’t reach Redfield before nightfall tomorrow. We’re flying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Flying?” Joshua felt his heart start to beat faster.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>The porter finished with the luggage; Joshua gave him a tip without looking at him. Joshua couldn’t keep his eyes off the flying craft; it looked tiny and light. He imagined strong gusts of wind blowing it off course, sending it crashing to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Well?” Tamu said. She was already sitting inside the vehicle with a strap fastened over her shoulder. Joshua climbed in next to her and fastened his own strap. Tamu started the craft. It moved along the ground at first, and then it slowly began to rise. Joshua was pressed back against his seat. His ears hurt; he swallowed frantically, feeling dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly but surely, the flyer stabilized. Joshua could sit comfortably, and the pain in his ears was gone. He was surprised he didn’t feel the movement of the vehicle anymore; they might as well have been standing still. His dizziness was gone, and he felt curious about the land over which they were flying.</p><p> </p><p>He looked down at the surface of Mars. He could see the towers of Old Larvazi, which seemed to have shrunken to the size of chess pieces. He noticed that the area around Old Larvazi was smooth and slightly lower than the land where the city stood. Tamu must have noticed him staring, for she said, “That’s where the ocean used to be. It evaporated a thousand years ago. Now, people live on the sea bottom, mostly from the countries to the west of Talaza. Quite a few tribes live there now, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that—where we’re—headed?” Joshua asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no. Ragasin is south of here, on the shore of Nem Radul.” At Joshua’s questioning look, Tamu added, “The Great Ice Lake. Not that there’s any ice in that lake today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Joshua watched the land. The smooth sea bottom was soon left behind, and they were flying over rougher terrain: bare red rocks and sand, stretching all the way to the horizon. He noticed pits in the ground, and deep canyons. Here and there were towers similar to those of Old Larvazi.</p><p> </p><p>“Do people—live in those cities?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Some do,” said Tamu, “but not many. They were built near lakes and rivers. When the bodies of water dried up, people moved away.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Joshua slumped in his seat. Mars was just as dreary and barren as he’d thought back on Earth. How did the Martians possibly survive with so little water? He said nothing else for a long time.</p><p> </p><p>About twenty minutes later, Tamu pointed down towards the ground. “That’s Ragasin.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua stared down at the city. There were a few white stone towers, lower than those back in Old Larvazi and the abandoned towns. He saw patches of green on the ground; looking closer, he realized that the green belonged to trees and bushes. “It looks nice,” he said, relieved.</p><p> </p><p>“It was built when Nem Radul was still a lake,” Tamu said. “Thanks to the oxygen farmers in this area, it wasn’t abandoned like many other lakeside cities. Plus, our <em>nemambu </em>appreciates beauty.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Redfield is about ten <em>kral</em> from here,” Tamu said. “We’ll be landing there.” They flew for a few more minutes, and then Tamu pointed down to the ground again. “There’s Redfield.”</p><p> </p><p>Redfield was surrounded by green patches, even more than in Ragasin. The buildings were long, low to the ground, and the same color as the red dirt. The craft began to descend; the pain in Joshua’s ears and the dizziness returned. He swallowed and pressed his hands to his head. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the vehicle landed and Tamu turned off the engine. She reached into the seat behind her and pulled out a long coat lined with gray fur, gloves, and a fur cap. “It’s cold in southern Talaza. You’ll want to bundle up before getting out.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Joshua said.</p><p> </p><p>Tamu shrugged as she put on the coat, gloves, and hat. “Whatever you say.” She opened the door of the flying craft and stepped out. Joshua followed her.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oof!</em>” he spluttered. It <em>was </em>cold. It was more than cold; it was freezing. He shivered, despite his greatcoat, gloves, and hat. “Is it always this cold?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s worse in the winter,” Tamu said. “This is our usual summer weather.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is <em>summer </em>weather?” Joshua’s jaw dropped. “How—how…”</p><p> </p><p>“Most of the Earthlings living in the south travel north for the winter. Your uncle did.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua’s teeth were chattering. “Would you mind if I got—some more clothes out of my suitcases?”</p><p> </p><p>“Go right ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua rifled in one of his suitcases, his hands shaking. He pulled out a shirt and coat, which he put on over the shirt and coat he was wearing. His arms were so bulky that he could barely put his greatcoat back on, but at least he was quite a bit warmer.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall I show you around?” Tamu asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Please do.”</p><p> </p><p>Tamu strode off towards the buildings, Joshua following her. They walked under rows of thin, flat-topped trees which reminded him of acacia trees he’d seen in pictures from Africa. “These are thorn trees,” Tamu said, “one of the only trees that can still grow here.” As they drew closer to the buildings, Joshua saw other plants: spiny shrubs that reminded him of cacti, bushes with small leaves and thorns, and grass.</p><p> </p><p>“How do these plants grow—with so little water?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“They don’t need much water,” said Tamu, “and we harvest the little water they need from the air. Shall I show you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Tamu led him to a strange machine which looked like a tall vase with a funnel on the bottom. Under the machine was a large basin, connected to two pipes. “The water is collected in this basin, and it’s transferred from one of the pipes to the soil. The other pipe connects it to a sink inside the house.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see,” Joshua said, marveling.</p><p> </p><p>Tamu led him to a low building with a flat roof. “This is the barn. Your uncle kept herds of <em>lubz </em>and <em>khama</em>.” Joshua walked into the barn to see the odd-looking animals stabled there. The <em>lubz </em>were fat, furry creatures with flat snouts, which looked like a cross between a pig and a bear. The <em>khama </em>were bulky hoofed animals with long fur and four horns.</p><p> </p><p>“Your uncle raised them for meat,” Tamu said. “He used to keep Earth livestock until five years ago, when the <em>nemambu </em>banned all animals and crops from Earth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would she do that?” Joshua asked, frowning.</p><p> </p><p>“The plants were invasive; they choked out the native plants. The cattle and pigs ate the few native plants that were left. The only solution was to kill everything from Earth.” Tamu snorted with laughter. “Your uncle held an enormous banquet and invited all the oxygen farmers from miles around to eat huge amounts of beef and pork. He gave the leftovers to his servants and farmhands. We were sick for three days.”</p><p> </p><p>“How am I supposed—to care for them?” Joshua twisted his hands nervously. “I don’t know anything—about Martian livestock and crops.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll show you how,” said Tamu. “Now, are you ready to see the house?” At a nod from Joshua, she led him to another low, flat-topped building. Joshua stumbled and put his hand on the wall for support—and abruptly took it away.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the house made of?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Soil bricks.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean dirt? This is a dirt house?” Joshua’s voice rose.</p><p> </p><p>Tamu nodded. “Much more practical than stone.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua shuddered. “I can’t live in a dirt house.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Tamu asked. She actually sounded surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“Because—because—it’s barbaric,” Joshua said. “Englishmen don’t live like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Tamu sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s all we have. Unless you’d rather sleep in the <em>dalighila</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“The what?”</p><p> </p><p>“The airship. What we flew in on.”</p><p>                                                                                                                      </p><p>Joshua was silent. Listlessly, he watched a Martian in a brown tunic and trousers step out of the barn. Tamu called out something in Martian and beckoned to the stranger, who came over to them. The stranger was a young woman with the same dark brown skin as Tamu and short blonde hair. She had a tattoo of a white star on one cheek and a golden sun tattoo on the other.</p><p> </p><p>“My daughter, Alniru,” said Tamu.</p><p> </p><p>Joshua held out his hand to the young woman. “I’m Joshua Lewis. Pleased to meet you, Alniru.”</p><p> </p><p>Alniru stared at his hand. “Hello,” she said uncertainly. Joshua lowered his hand, somewhat abashed.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s shy,” Tamu said. “She’s always been shy, even when she was a little girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am not shy,” Alniru said, frowning at her mother. “I speak not well English.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m sure you’ll learn it soon,” Joshua said. He didn’t know what else to say. He wondered why Tamu hadn’t taught her better English.</p><p> </p><p>Tamu took a little tablet out of her pocket and looked at it. “Well, I’d like to stay, but it’s almost the nineteenth hour. Time for patrol.”</p><p> </p><p>“Patrol?” asked Joshua.</p><p> </p><p>“We patrol the perimeter, guarding against raiding tribes and wild animals.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wild animals?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. <em>Banda </em>and <em>sharakh</em> and <em>zuril</em>. They kill livestock and even humans, if they’re hungry enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Alniru looked at her mother with large, pleading eyes and said something in Martian. Tamu frowned and said something back in a sharp voice. Joshua wondered what their conversation was about, before Tamu turned back to him with a rueful smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Softhearted Alniru; she just asked me to stay behind. She should have been born in the old days, before the ocean dried up; she was made for a kinder time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or a kinder planet,” Joshua murmured. A desert planet, freezing air not fit to breathe, a house made of dirt, and fierce animals that ate humans. It looked like his previous fears about Mars would be justified.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>About a fortnight after Joshua reached Redfield, Tamu came to him with an invitation.</p><p> </p><p>“Shara has invited you to his house for dinner tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who?” Joshua said.</p><p> </p><p>“Shara Aldalana Zulan. He’s the richest oxygen farmer in southern Talaza. I met him in the market of Ragasin today, and he was excited to hear you’d come to Redfield. He wants to meet you and introduce you to the other oxygen farmers in the area.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua sighed. “Well, tell him I’ll come.” He would rather have stayed home, but he realized that socializing with other people would make living on Mars easier.</p><p> </p><p>Although Mars was still strange to him, Joshua was slowly starting to get used to the thin air, the cold temperatures, and even his dirt house. He had gone to Ragasin and bought warm shirts and trousers, a coat and hat lined with <em>lubz </em>fur, and a balaclava, which the Martians called a mask. He could talk without gasping for breath every minute. And living in a house made of dirt wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be; the earthen floor was covered with colorful rugs, the walls were plastered and painted, and the house was quite warm. Anyway, if Joshua made enough money from the sale of <em>lubz, khama</em>, and vegetables, he could build a house of stone one day.</p><p> </p><p>Joshua put on his coat and hat and wandered out of the house and into the barn. He found Alniru there, pouring the grain called <em>nakh </em>into troughs for the <em>lubz </em>and <em>khama</em>. She turned her head and saw Joshua. She smiled shyly and came toward hiim.</p><p> </p><p>“You come see <em>lubz </em>and <em>khama</em>?” she said. “I is just giving food them.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua smiled back. “So I see.” He was used to Alniru’s poor English by now.</p><p> </p><p>“How you like live here?”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua shrugged. “I’m getting used to it.” Alniru was so tall that he had to tilt his head back a little to look into her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Must be not same that Tishighal,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“Tishighal?”</p><p> </p><p>“Name for Earth,” Alniru explained. “Stal is name for planet.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do the names mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tishighal mean ‘blue star’. Stal mean ‘home,’ Alniru said. “My English be not good, but I that know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.” Joshua looked at Alniru for a while: her blonde hair contrasting with her dark skin, the star and sun tattoos on her face. “Would you like me to teach you English?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I said, do you want me to teach you English?”</p><p> </p><p>Alniru’s thick eyebrows went up as she took a deep breath and clasped her hands. “I would that like,” she said, “but I know I is not good speak it. Mother have try teach me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, rubbish,” Joshua said. “I’m sure that with a teacher and some practice, you’ll be able to learn it.”</p><p> </p><p>Alniru clasped her hands again, looking eager. “Yes, I would that like,” she said again.</p><p> </p><p>“Very well. We’ll start tomorrow,” Joshua said. He wondered that he made the offer. Teaching someone English would be difficult, especially since he had no experience with it. But Alniru was friendly and likable, and teaching her English would give him something to do while the servants took care of the farm. “And perhaps you can teach me Martian.”</p><p> </p><p>Alniru raised her eyebrows. “Martian”?</p><p> </p><p>“The language of Stal.”</p><p> </p><p>“The tongues of Stal are many,” Alniru said. “I teach you Talazan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Talazan, then.” Joshua offered his hand. “Is it a bargain?”</p><p> </p><p>Alniru hesitantly put her hand in his. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, then.” Joshua shook her hand. It was cheering to know he had a friend on this strange planet. Two friends, counting Tamu.</p><hr/><p>Shara Zulan’s house and barn were larger than Joshua’s, but they were made of the same red soil bricks. They was surrounded by even more plants than Redfield was. Several fowls with green and yellow feathers were pecking at the ground outside the barn, and Joshua saw some antelope-like creatures in a pen on the other side. He would have to ask Tamu about them later.</p><p> </p><p>Joshua walked up to the house and knocked. A servant opened the door for him. Joshua stopped in the doorway and stared. Like the Martians he’d seen so far, the guests were tall, with reddish-brown skin and tattoos on their cheeks, but they weren’t plainly-dressed or shorthaired. They were clad in long robes with colorful embroidery, and their hair and beards were long and elaborately braided.</p><p> </p><p>A Martian even taller than the others came towards Joshua. His wore a pink robe embroidered with black and green geometric shape and had long gray hair, a long gray beard with two braids in it, and flower tattoos on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome!” he said cheerfully, shaking Joshua’s hand. “I’m Shara Aldalana Zulan. Pleased to meet you at last.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” said Joshua. “I’m Joshua Lewis.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off Shara’s robe, beard, and tattoos.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me introduce you to my other guests,” Shara said. He waved his hand to a man in a red robe and a woman in a green robe. “Bala Zivalana Kallar and his wife, Shartu Galulunu.” He indicated a young woman in a yellow robe. “Kilu Larulunu Alman.” Then, pointing to another Martian couple, “Shabu Ilulunu Vardal and her husband, Nasin Davalana.” He pointed to a group of English people in evening dress, standing in the corner. “Mr. and Mrs. Tilton. Colonel Charles. Sir John and Lady Merrel.” And last of all, he walked over to two Martian women standing in a doorway. “My wife, Sierwen Rannic, and my daughter, Kemlil Sierwenlunu.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua looked at Shara’s wife and daughter in surprise. They were far paler than the rest of the Martians; their skin was a light orange. Their braided hair was a deep black, and it shone under the electric lights. Sierwen merely nodded to Joshua, but Kemlil came forward to shake his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re so glad to meet you,” Kemlil said. She was only slightly taller than Joshua, and her hands were small and delicate. “We knew your uncle well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Joshua said. She was close enough for him to see her eyes. They were soft and gentle and a deep brown. They gazed at him with warmth and friendliness. Joshua stepped back, uncomfortable with the closeness. He walked over to the corner where the English people were standing. “Joshua Lewis,” he said, holding out his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Colonel Charles shook it. “Vincent Charles. Pleased to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I you,” Joshua said. He shook hands with the other English people. “How nice it is to meet other Englishmen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed, it is,” Mrs. Tilton said. “Especially a relation of Mr. Lewis.”</p><p> </p><p>“You knew my uncle?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, we did,” said Mrs. Tilton. “He was a fine fellow.”</p><p> </p><p>“So hospitable,” Mr. Tilton chimed in.</p><p> </p><p>“He had lovely dinner parties,” said Lady Merrel.</p><p> </p><p>“And he was a friend to everyone, Earthling or Martian,” added Sir John. “And Redfield was one of the most prosperous oxygen farms on the planet.”</p><p> </p><p>Joshua shook his head. “It seems I shall have trouble filling my uncle’s shoes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed the colonel. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m still anxious about it,” Joshua confessed.</p><p> </p><p>Now the English people looked uncomfortable and were silent for a minute. “No need to be anxious,” Mr. Tilton finally said. “Running an oxygen farm is quite easy. Just take care of the plants, and they’ll do all the work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not to mention the <em>galbu</em>,” said Sir John. “My <em>galbu </em>works well with Martian plants and animals. He used to be a naturalist before taking the job on our estate.”</p><p> </p><p>“My own <em>galbu </em>isn’t a naturalist,” Joshua said slowly. “I’m not sure what she was before.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner’s ready,” a voice said. Joshua turned to see a tall woman in tunic and trousers—a servant?—standing in another doorway. The guests all moved slowly into what must have been the dining room. Joshua’s mouth watered; he hadn’t eaten lunch that day. He hoped <em>lubz </em>and <em>khama </em>meat would be served.</p><p> </p><p>The dining table was low to the ground and surrounded by cushions on the floor. The guests sat down on the cushions, cross-legged. The English people looked uncomfortable and kept adjusting their clothes, but Joshua sat down easily. He and his mother had sat on the floor to eat during his childhood in India. At each place, there was a plate, a two-pronged fork, a knife, and a small glass of water. Joshua’s seat was between Sierwen and Kemlil.</p><p> </p><p>Shara settled himself onto his cushion. “May the water from the air never dry up. May the atmosphere last for thousands of years. And may the ground be ever fruitful.” With that, he picked up his glass and gulped down the water. The rest of the guests did the same. Servants came from the kitchen, bearing dishes. They set the dishes onto the table, and the guests began serving themselves. The food was similar to that which Joshua had been eating for the past fortnight. There were <em>khama </em>meat, bread and noodles made from <em>nakh</em>, the mashed-up squash-like vegetable known as <em>kadan</em>, beans, melon, sour fruit from the cactus-like plants, and the alcoholic drink made from <em>nakh </em>and known as <em>vanikha</em>. There were also a mild, sweet meat and three fowls which Joshua didn’t recognize.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em>zinvil </em>meat,” Kemlil said, in response to his questions. “And the fowls are <em>talmal,</em> <em>heru </em>and <em>lakai</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” That didn’t tell Joshua much. They tasted good, though.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you find it here on Mars?” Shara asked Joshua, spearing a piece of meat on his fork.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not what I’m used to,” Joshua said, “but it’s interesting.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was it like on Earth?” the woman in green—Shartu—asked?</p><p> </p><p> “It was much warmer and wetter,” Joshua said and immediately wanted to kick himself. <em>Much warmer and wetter? Really?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Ah, yes; the oceans and rain,” said Shartu. She sounded wistful. “How I should like to go there someday.”</p><p> </p><p>Bala shook his head. “I wouldn’t. People who go to Earth can’t walk for days.”</p><p> </p><p>“It would be worth it to see oceans,” said Shartu.</p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t people walk when they go to Earth?” Joshua asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Heavier gravity and more atmospheric pressure,” Sierwen said.</p><p> </p><p><em>Of course</em>, Joshua thought, feeling silly. “Do any Martians go to Earth?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not many,” Sierwen answered. “The gravity and atmosphere are too much for most people.”</p><p> </p><p>Nasin spoke up. “Our son went to Earth last year.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Joshua said. “What did he think of it?”</p><p> </p><p>“He said it was just as you described it: warm and wet,” Nasin answered. “At least Britain was. He moved to another country—I forget the name—cold, on another continent, with prairies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Was it somewhere in Asia? Or North America?”</p><p> </p><p>“Asia,” Nasin said, “but I don’t remember the country’s name.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mongolia,” Shabu said softly.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s it!” said Nasin, slapping the table. “It was more like home, he wrote back to us. As far as we know, he’s happy there.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Strange</em>, Joshua thought, <em>to be so attached to the wastelands on Mars that he searched for a wasteland on Earth</em>. He found Shartu’s desire to see Earth’s seas more understandable.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall we have some live music?” Kemlil asked, standing up. “Or shall I put on a recording?”</p><p> </p><p>“Live music,” said Shara and Sierwen together. Several other guests murmured their agreement. Joshua remained silent. Kemlil went out of the room and returned holding a string instrument shaped like a guitar but with at least thirty strings, like a harp. She sat back down and began tuning the instrument, running her slender fingers over the strings. Then she began to play and sing in Talazan. The music reminded Joshua of Indian music, with its microtones. Kemlil’s sweet voice sang up and down the scale. Joshua listened, feeling nostalgic; it had been so long since he’d heard this kind of music. When the song ended, Kemlil began to play a familiar melody and to sing in English.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I love you truly, truly dear,</em></p><p><em>Life with its sorrow, life with its tear</em>…”</p><p> </p><p>Pleasantly surprised, Joshua watched Kemlil’s face as she sang. Her eyes seemed softer than before, and her voice was gentle. His heart beat faster as he listened.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,</em></p><p><em>For I love you truly, truly dear.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The other guests, especially the English guests, were listening contentedly, but they didn’t seem to be as spellbound as Joshua was. He stared at Kemlil; it was as if she was singing the song directly to him. He felt his face heat up at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>When Kemlil finished the Earth song, she sang more songs in Talazan, but Joshua barely noticed them. He was too busy watching her. The rest of the evening passed; Joshua sleepwalked through the rest of it. He hoped Kemlil would speak to him again, but she stayed close to her mother. Shara noticed him, though. “Are you all right?” he asked Joshua. “You seem awfully quiet.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m all right; just tired.”</p><p> </p><p>Shara nodded knowingly. “That’s understandable. Still getting used to the thin air, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” That was all Joshua said, but Shara seemed satisfied.</p><p> </p><p>At last the evening came to an end, and the guests began leaving. Shara, Sierwen, and Kemlil stood by the door, shaking hands with the English and touching the Martians’ shoulders. Joshua moved towards them and shook their hands. He squeezed Kemlil’s hand slightly, his face burning. “Do come again,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>Kemlil had asked him to come again! Joshua’s stomach fluttered for a brief time, before he reminded himself that she was just being polite. Still, he would definitely come back. He felt like he would be miserable forever if he couldn’t see Kemlil again.</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of the night, he thought of Kemlil. As he rode home in his ground car, he remembered her pale-orange skin and her glossy black hair. As he talked about business with Tamu, he thought of her gentle brown eyes. And when it was bedtime, he sat in the metal chair beside his bed, thinking about her soft hand and the sweet music she’d played. It was a long time before he finally climbed into bed and fell asleep, and even then, the English song she’d sung was running through his head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear</em>,</p><p><em>For you love me truly, truly dear</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The song in this chapter is "I Love You Truly," written by Carrie Jacobs-Bond in 1901.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Visitor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ushtu Marilunu Azgal, <em>nemambu </em>of Ragasin, sat on the mat in her office, rubbing her forehead in vexation. Between the Fonns and the invaders from Tishighal, it looked like Ragasin, or even the nation of Talaza, would never have peace. Ushtu herself had not known peace for twenty years.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As a child, she had known nothing but kindness and joy. Her parents had sheltered her as much as they could from disturbing or depressing facts. Even harvesting water from the air, growing vegetables hydroponically, and sheltering in the family house for the whole winter had just been normal parts of life. At age twelve, Ushtu had finally learned they were signs that Stal was dying. Since that time, she had had nightmares about wandering the ocean bottom, alone and parched with thirst, or being smothered by blowing clouds of dust.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu had to suppress a shudder. Stal’s decline was hard enough to deal with without enemies trying to destroy Talaza. She looked at her surroundings, taking deep breaths to calm down. The soil-brick walls were hung with paintings, mostly of the ancient ocean, lakes, and forests. She sat on a rug embroidered with long-extinct flowers. Her desk, a table low to the ground, was metal, but painted to look like wood. Many people criticized Ushtu’s obsession with Stal’s past, but she didn’t care. There was nothing wrong with dreaming about happier times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a knock on the door. Ushtu rose to answer it, her heart feeling lighter. She recognized that knock: it was from the person she loved most in the world. She opened the door and saw Kemlil standing there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu folded Kemlil in her embrace and kissed her. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil returned the kiss. “And I you. Have you been working too hard again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How can I do anything else?” Ushtu released Kemlil and gestured to the mat. “The Fonns are slaughtering Talazan troops on the border of Kantal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, no.” Kemlil’s pale skin turned even paler, and her brown eyes widened as she sat down. “Have you asked the Queen and the <em>Kraluma </em>to send more troops?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve contacted them by communicator and by letter.” Ushtu sat down in turn. “They refused; said they wouldn’t send troops to fight a war of attrition.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What about the tribes in the south?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu shook her head. “I’ve tried recruiting them, but they’ve refused to fight with us. I suppose it isn’t surprising, but it is disappointing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Then the Fonns have got us. We’re doomed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hopefully not,” said Ushtu. She ran a hand through her black hair. “But we haven’t the strength to fight both Fonnwinn and Tishighal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re not fighting Tishighal,” said Kemlil, sounding confused.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If their rockets keep landing here and if I can’t keep them out of Ragasin, we may have to,” Ushtu said. “Perhaps the Queen will come to her senses. Perhaps we’ll drive the Tishighali off our planet forever.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil shuddered. “I hope not. We’re good friends with the Tishighali oxygen farmers near us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu groaned. <em>Not this again. </em>Ushtu tolerated the Tishighali oxygen farmers, since they were helping to keep the planet habitable, and as long as they didn’t bring invasive species to Stal. But she was not friends with them and would never be. She told Kemlil so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But it’s unfair to fight a whole planet when there are good people on it,” Kemlil protested</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu was tempted to roll her eyes. “Then we might as well make peace with Fonnwinn. There are probably good people there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I—I wouldn’t want to do that,” Kemlil said slowly, “but we’ve been fighting the Fonns for hundreds of years. The Tishighali started coming here only fifty years ago.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And have caused more damage than the Fonns ever could!” Ushtu’s voice rose. After breathing deeply, she added, “They’ve robbed us and given us diseases and murdered us. They bring their plants and animals here and destroy our ecosystems. They refuse to abide by our laws.” She spoke quietly, but inside, she was exasperated. What would it take to make Kemlil see?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Perhaps the Tishighali in the north are like that,” Kemlil said, “but the ones here aren’t. They follow your laws.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And how long do you think they’ll continue to follow the laws?” Ushtu said. “More and more of them are coming here every day. In a few generations, they may outnumber us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil fell silent. She bit her lip and stared at the floor. <em>Perhaps she finally sees</em>, thought Ushtu, but it was unlikely. Kemlil was too optimistic and good-humored to face the facts about the Tishighali. She would probably even make friends with the miners and the politicians in the north. Then again, her cheerful personality had made Ushtu fall in love with her two years ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wrenching her mind back to the present, Ushtu asked, “You didn’t come here to talk about Tishighal, did you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I just dropped in to talk, and give you some bad news,” Kemlil said. “My father will be home tonight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought he was staying on the Kallar farm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He changed his mind. He’s invited the Kallars to stay with us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How long?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A <em>nali</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu groaned. “Then I shan’t be able to come to your house.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t see why we have to keep our relationship secret,” Kemlil said. “If we told my father—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” said Ushtu firmly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But if we—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>No</em>. Think of what people would say.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you’re a <em>nemambu</em>. You can do whatever you want, and nobody will mind.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu shook her head in exasperation. “You still think that? I could be deposed or voted out in the next election.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I don’t see why.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Haven’t you listened to the Queen and the <em>Kraluma</em>? ‘We must repopulate our planet. It is the duty of every adult on Stal to produce offspring.’ Ushtu rubbed her aching temples. “I don’t know which the <em>Kraluma</em> disapproves of more: my beliefs about Tishighal or the fact I’m not married to a man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me rub your head for you,” said Kemlil. She scooted towards Ushtu’s back and began to massage her forehead. It was so relaxing that Ushtu closed her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We could use artificial insemination,” Kemlil suggested. “Or adopt a child.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If only we could,” Ushtu said wearily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why shouldn’t we?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I already said: because—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, I know; you could be voted out.” Kemlil stopped rubbing Ushtu’s forehead. “Sometimes I wonder how I ever fell in love with a politician,” she said lightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu smiled ruefully. “Sometimes I wonder how I ever fell in love in the first place.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kamlil put her arms around Ushtu. “Well, I’m glad you did, of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ushtu kissed her, feeling a lump in her throat. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the neck of her tunic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, love,” Kamlil said, rubbing her back, “don’t cry! We’ll get through this somehow. We’ll win the war.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wish I could believe you.” Ushtu’s voice trembled; she had to swallow several times to speak more firmly. “All I want to do is protect our country and our planet. If we win this war, if we can stop the planet from drying up and losing its atmosphere, I’ll be happy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The "Kraluma" is the Prime Minister of Talaza. A "nali" is a Martian week that lasts nine days.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Beggar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 1901</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua lay on his stomach on the ground, trying to keep his gun steady. Tamu was teaching him how to shoot, without much luck. In all the days he’d been practicing, he had only hit the target a few times. He pressed the gun to his shoulder and shot, with the last of the bullets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tamu went over to the target and examined it. “Nothing. You didn’t hit it. Never mind; we’ll try it again later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His heart sinking, Joshua put the gun down and rose up on his knees, rubbing his sore shoulder. “This is hopeless. I’ll never be able to shoot properly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You will with more practice,” Tamu said. She walked back over to him. “Anyway, Kamal and I can patrol the perimeter just fine until you get better at shooting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua doubted he would get better. He slowly picked up his gun and walked into the house. If he couldn’t learn to shoot, he would never be able to do anything useful on Mars. Without doing anything useful, he would never be able to impress Kemlil Zulan. He went to the sitting room, with its flower-embroidered carpet, its colorful cushions scattered around the floor, and its white walls painted with flat-topped thorn trees. He sighed as he put the gun in the rack by the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is wrong?” he heard Alniru asked. He turned around to face her. She was sitting on the floor, at the little metal table where she and Joshua had their English and Talazan lessons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing, really. I’m having trouble shooting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It matters not,” said Alniru. “I am poor shooter also.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I can’t be a poor shooter,” Joshua said. “I need to learn to be useful. A month on Mars, and I’m still helpless.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are not helpless.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I am!” Joshua sat down and slammed a fist onto the table in frustration. “I can’t shoot, I can’t patrol my own property, I can’t farm. The servants do everything for me. I haven’t done a single useful thing since I came here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To teach me English is not useful?” Alniru said quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua was instantly ashamed. “I didn’t mean to say that. I meant I haven’t done anything useful besides teaching you English.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alniru looked down at the floor. “If you do not want to teach me, just say.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, no! I do want to teach you,” Joshua said. “It’s just that I’ve never been in this situation before. I’ve never owned a farm, and I’ve never had servants to help me take care of it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You did not own a farm on Earth?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. I was a student on Earth, and I was poor. My mother had to save a lot of money to send me to school in England.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alniru cocked her head to one side. “Then you were very lucky to get this farm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right; I am lucky.” Joshua traced a pattern thoughtfully on the metal table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You will get better at shooting,” Alniru said. “You must practice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, that’s what your mother says,” Joshua said. He stared glumly down at the floor. “It’s discouraging.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alniru frowned. “What is this word, dis-cor—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Discouraging,” Joshua said. “It means that I don’t have any hope.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alniru pressed her palms to the table and looked fiercely at Joshua. “No, no!” she said. “You must have hope. You must. You will—you will die without it!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua looked at her in surprise. Alniru had never been angry with him before. Even when he made mistakes in his Talazan, she was always patient and sweet-tempered. “What’s the matter?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You must have hope, or you will die!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua laughed awkwardly. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to die.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You must promise to have hope,” Alniru insisted. “You must promise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All right, I promise to have hope,” Joshua said with a shrug. He had no idea why Alniru was so insistent about it, but he wanted to be agreeable. He stood up</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To Shara’s,” said Joshua.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alniru cocked her head and frowned. “You go there very much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not that much,” said Joshua, shifting uncomfortably. “But I like Shara, and I enjoy his company.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And his daughter?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua felt his face heat up. How had Alniru known? “Yes. I like visiting all the Zulans. Including Kemlil.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alniru stood up and walked slowly, shoulders slumped, to the metal shelf on the wall. She took down a book, walked back to the table, and sat down. “Have a good time,” she said dully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Why is she upset about this? </em>Joshua wondered. <em>Were her feelings that hurt when I talked about being useful? </em><em>And what did she mean by “you must have hope or you will die”?</em> He left the sitting room and went to look for Kamal, his chauffeur. He found Kamal in the corridor. “I want you to drive me to Shara’s, please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well,” was all Kamal said, for which Joshua was grateful. Tamu and Alniru had commented on his frequent trips to Shara’s, but Kamal never said anything about it. He was as stolid as a typical English servant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Joshua and Kamal went to the garage, Joshua asked, “Do you know what’s bothering Alniru?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. Is something wrong with her? I hadn’t heard.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just asking. She was in a strange mood today.” Joshua climbed into the vehicle. “She was angry at me. I’ve never seen her get angry before.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That is odd.” Kamal frowned as he sat down in the driver’s seat. “Perhaps Tamu would know. You should ask her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I suppose so,” Joshua said, as Kamal started the car. He was silent as Kamal drove past the spiny plants and grass and the thorn trees, until until they reached the wall surrounding Redfield, a soil brick structure with a metal gate in it. Kamal pressed a button on a little device, and the gate slowly swung open. Joshua saw a hunched figure waiting on the other side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s someone there!” he said, pointing to the figure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kamal scowled. “Not again.” He turned off the car and rolled down the window. “Go away!” he shouted. “We have no money for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The person shuffled up to the car. Joshua saw, to his surprise, that the stranger was a white man. The man had long, greasy brown hair, a scraggly beard, and a dirty face. He was wearing a tattered coat and fur hat and boots full of holes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said, go away!” snapped Kamal. “Are you deaf?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who is he?” Joshua asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An annoying beggar,” Kamal answered. “He’s been hanging around Redfield for a year. Be off with you!” he told the stranger. “I said, we’ve no money.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, wait,” Joshua said. He dug in his wallet and took out a note: a Talazan <em>rai</em>. He handed it to Kamal, who sighed and held it out to the beggar.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The beggar took the note and dropped it on the ground. “Don’t want money,” he mumbled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then why do you come around here?” demanded Kamal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My home,” the Englishman said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your home?” Joshua’s interest was piqued. He leaned over Kamal to see the beggar more closely. “Were you a servant here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. But I’ve been waiting for six years.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Enough!” Kamal said. “Move out of the way, unless you want to be run over.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The ragged figure bowed his head and slowly stepped backwards. Kamal drove through the gate and pressed the button to shut it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who was that?” Joshua asked, as they drove out into the open desert.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you: just a beggar that’s been hanging around here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But for a year? That’s a long time.” Joshua turned in his seat to look backwards. He couldn’t see the beggar now; they were too far away. “Why would a beggar hang around here for a year?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Kamal didn’t look at Joshua. “We offered him money in the past, but he wouldn’t take it. If we drive him away, he leaves, but he always comes back. There seems no way to get rid of him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not call the police?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There are no police out here,” said Kamal. “Even if there were, they wouldn’t bother arresting a mere beggar.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then why not drive him somewhere in the car? Somewhere far away from Redfield.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We tried that. It took a little longer for him to come back, but come back he did.” Kamal sighed. “We’ll just have to keep driving him away. Perhaps he’ll eventually leave if we don’t give him anything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see.” Joshua was quiet for the rest of the ride. Today was a day of mysteries. His thoughts moved back and forth, from Alniru to the beggar and back to Alniru again.  He was still wondering about them when the car pulled up to Shara’s door. A servant ushered Joshua into the sitting room, where the Zulan family were sitting. Shara clapped his hands. “Hello, Joshua. Back so soon? Excellent! We’ve got a roasted <em>zinvil </em>leg, and a pair of <em>talmals</em>. Glad you’re here to help us eat them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua sat down on a cushion next to Kemlil. “That sounds delicious.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil smiled at him. “Have you come back to hear me play and sing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua twisted his hands together, feeling shy and embarrassed. “You play well…and you have a good voice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I don’t. I’m an amateur. But I’m glad you enjoy it.” Kemlil stood up. “Do you want me to get my <em>kumak </em>and sing for you now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil left the room. Joshua was alone with Shara and Sierwen. His mind traveled back to Alniru and the beggar. “Have you noticed a beggar wandering around in this area?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, you mean <em>Ingilagh</em>? He’s in the area again?” Shara said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joshua translated the name in his head. “’The mad Englishman’? Is that what you call him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shara nodded. “He’s come around every so often. He was an officer in a British garrison. We don’t know what made him leave the army, but ever since, he’s been wandering from farm to farm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My chauffeur said he doesn’t take money,” Joshua said. He remembered the mysterious man dropping his <em>rai </em>note onto the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your chauffeur’s right,” Sierwen said. “Nobody knows what he wants. He must be completely mad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kemlil appeared in the room again with her instrument. “Sorry that took a while.” She sat down on the floor and began tuning the <em>kumak</em>. “What would you like to hear?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A song from Earth. Any one will do,” Joshua answered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well,” Kemlil began to play and sing “Baby Mine.” Joshua listened to her lovely voice and watched the play of her hands on the <em>kumak</em>. He was so enraptured by her music that the mysteries surrounding Alniru and the beggar were driven out of his mind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and/or criticism are welcome.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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